Goodbyes.

Goodbyes are difficult, I know. The moments I spend with you are so beautiful, they should last forever. The time my eyes get to look at you, your face, is the time my eyes enjoy the most. It becomes difficult when you have to go. I can’t say goodbye to you probably because it’s the hardest thing to do. It’s strange how my hands automatically find yours and hold them. Trust me, I don’t plan to do it. It happens. When my fingers touch yours, I swear, I feel like a part of you and it’s the best possible feeling. When I look away, and you look at me, I catch you from the corner of my eye. I swear, I die. I can’t accept the fact that I won’t be seeing you after that point of time. Goodbye declares it. And I hate it. Goodbyes are difficult, I told you. Especially when you’ve to say it to someone you want to be with, forever.
Advertisements

A world without writers.

Imagine a world without writers
A world where no one remembers about the way stars shine
Where no one has the time to explain
how a mother smiles looking at her four-year-old
Imagine a world with no midnight diary entries
A world where nobody cares to write about the
way eyes sparkle before the first kiss
Imagine a world where a sunset is a mere sunset
and rain just drops of water falling down from the sky
Nobody calls scars and flaws beautiful
where nobody dares to embrace imperfection
A world where no one makes you realize that we are all
breathing the same air;
a world where no one gives a damn about a gentleman and his flair
Writers, I tell you
they see poetry everywhere,
they know how to make words absorb their pain
they’ll remember the distance between two souls
the sweat that rests between two hands when they meet again
they remember the giggle of the girl in the backyard
and cry of the 12 year old who got in the wrong train
writers see through your soul
through your lies,
they see through the guards you put up
to conceal, to hide
Imagine a world without writers,
A library with books, but only blank pages
First date, but no one to scribble the memory
Beginning of a friendship, zero poems exchanged
Loss of a soul, but no one to share the agony
Imagine a world without writers,
A world where no one remembers about the way stars shine.

Yes.

I grew up saying that if I ever get married, it’ll obviously be a love marriage. Every time there used to be a discussion about marriage in the family, I used to change the topic by saying, “I am waiting for the right one.”

I wonder why I was always so confident about a love marriage, about finding the right one, falling in love, and eventually getting married to that one person.

Unfortunately, nothing like that happened. I did not find the right person.

All my dreams of ‘love marriage’ were lost.
I got tired of being rejected. Tired of listening to ‘No.’ I was 24, and was rejected a lot of times.

It was Asha’s wedding. Her wedding meant a big deal to everybody in our family. She was a year younger to me, and was getting married. Of course, people were talking about it.

 Asha was my cousin, born in India, and brought up in USA. She was back in India, just for the grand wedding.

Her entire wedding ceremony was huge. Her favourite colour was yellow and hence the entire hotel was decorated with yellow flowers, lights, curtains and what not. It all looked so appealing. Women made to wear yellow, while men were made to wear red.

She met Rakesh in USA, both of them fell in love, dated each other for a really long time, and things went far too ahead. Well.. whatsoever, they were now getting married.

I was in Asha’s room, on one of the days of the wedding week, talking to her about general things.

“But, didi. I don’t think you should wait for the right one anymore.” Asha said.

I laughed, “You really think I am waiting? I am not!”

“Listen, just because I was in US, you think I don’t know about what was happening here? I know everything. You have been delaying things. I know that! Don’t let stupid things stop you. I am sure things are going to work out now. I assure you.”

I did not say anything. She was right.
She removed her phone from her purse and showed me a picture of a man. She was smiling.
“Who is this?” I smiled and asked.
“Sahil.”
I pushed her phone away.
“He is a teacher in our college. He is coming here tomorrow. He is of your type only. Meet him once.”
I was shaking my head when she said that.

“Become friends at least.”
She gave me her number. Asha told Sahil to text me. Sahil did.

Asha knew that even Sahil couldn’t find someone. She convined Sahil to somehow meet me, and made me look like the ‘one’ he has been waiting for.

Sahil and I texted each other for sometime. We spoke about general things. It was nothing exciting and eventually we stopped texting each other.

Few weeks passed. Asha went back to US.
I got busy with my work. The routine.

One day, Sahil called me.
He said that he is going to be around my area the next day. I got the hint. He wanted to meet me.

“Let’s meet for a coffee?”
I said.

“Was looking forward to that!” he said.

So, I was gonna meet him. I was very nervous. I had just seen one picture of him. Barely knew him.

We had decided to meet at a local cafe in the afternoon.
It was a gloomy day, with dark clouds in the sky.
I was supposed to reach there by 4, but I decided to reach before that.

I reached around 3, and to my surprise, he was already there. Waiting outside the cafe. He had a black umbrella in his hand, was wearing a blue checks shirt and a black pant.

I tried to look inside the cafe, it was not that crowded. I wondered why he was still standing outside. He was looking at the other side, was checking his watch. He looked nervous, but so handsome.

I was standing on the opposite road. I didn’t know if Asha had ever shown him a picture of me. I was still standing there. Looking at him. He didn’t seem impatient or irritated. And then, it started to rain. He quickly opened the umbrella and took his phone out of his pocket. He looked up exactly where I was standing before seeing his phone. I tried to hide behind a car with my umbrella.

He was texting someone. I saw him type.
A minute later my phone beeped.

It said, “Asha told me that you don’t like going out when it rains. Unfortunately, it is raining. Take your time. I might be late too.”

He was still standing outside. Waiting. Checking his watch, phone.

I decided to show up.

I checked myself in the mirror of the car I was hiding behind, took a deep breath and went on the road again. This time, I deliberately stood exactly on the road that was opposite to where he was standing.

Cars were moving quick. He looked at me.

He saw me and smiled.

I crossed the road. My heart was beating really fast. It was raining badly. I usually used to look down and walk. But this time, I purposely didn’t do that.

As I approached him, his smile became wider. He looked at me and said,

“Did you face any problems while coming? I also just reached. The traffic, I tell you.”

“No, not really. You get used to the daily suffering.” I smiled.

He nodded and opened the door for me.

We both went inside the cafe, we ordered for coffee and biscuits.
He looked so happy and was full of energy.

We spoke for almost an hour. Finished the coffee and biscuits. And not once, did he say anything about how I looked.

When we were paying the bill, he said

“You know what, rains really make me want to have hot corn. Let’s go grab some, there is a small stall 10 minutes away.”

I smiled. I was surprised.

We had corn, laughed, enjoyed the rain. I realized he is a really nice guy. He told me about all his weird fantasies and dreams. I told him about mine.
We didn’t bother to look at the time. We went for a long walk, told each other a lot about our philosophies and stuff, went for a small play, and spoke about almost everything.

I had a really nice time and then we decided to head home when mom started to call me.

We were waiting at the bus stop. Both of us were quiet. It was raining a bit. He still seemed lively and happy. I looked at him and smiled. He was looking down at the road. Then he looked at me, pressed his lips, and said,

“I want you to meet my parents.”

“Are you blind, Sahil?” I asked.

He laughed, “No, I can see that your bus is coming, and it’s time to go home and tell your parents that I finally like someone.”

“There is a scar on my face!”

“I know.” He said, with a smile on his face.

“You cannot just ignore it. You have to say something.”

Sahil laughed,

“I didn’t see the need to be honest. I saw it. It’s fine. I know it screams for attention. I know it makes you feel ugly. But, you know what? I don’t care. I did rather see the spark in your eyes when you smile. I did rather fall in love with the way you laugh.”

I smiled.

“Tell your scar that it has got enough of attention already. Enough now.”

Both of us started to laugh and we watched my bus slowly disappear, while it continued to rain.

He extended his hand, and said,

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” I said.